


Puff Puff Peralta

by flannelfeelings



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Amy Santiago Loves Jake Peralta, Angst and Fluff, Asthma, Asthma attack, Before the cruise, Developing Relationship, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Early Relationship, Established Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Happy Ending, House Cleaning, Hurt Jake Peralta, Hurt/Comfort, Jake Peralta Loves Amy Santiago, Jake Peralta is Bad at Feelings, Jake has asthma, Protective Amy Santiago, Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:55:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24363178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flannelfeelings/pseuds/flannelfeelings
Summary: After a few weeks of being together, Amy decides it's time to help Jake clean his apartment.
Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Comments: 8
Kudos: 186





	Puff Puff Peralta

**Author's Note:**

> my favorite thing about b99 is they mention things like Jake has asthma and is allergic to bees and that gives me so much power in my fics...like alright guys, you gave me this ammo and now my gun is full.  
> Here's some hurt jake and protective amy. 
> 
> please enjoy and lmk your thoughts!

Jake knew it was coming as soon as he and Amy made their relationship official.

Growing up with a single mom who worked two jobs, Jake didn’t always live in the tidiest home. Karen would come home after long nights exhausted, and really only cleaned as needed. Their home was rather dusty (a factor that did nothing to help his asthma) and other than obviously necessary cleaning, hygiene mostly fell to the wayside.

When Jake became an adult and began living on his own, he sort of followed in his mother’s footsteps. To be fair, he’d never really had anyone show him the proper way to take care of your home. He lived his life in a clutter and pretty much only cleaned when it was necessary, like wiping the countertops after meals and scrubbing his bathroom every week or so. He never vacuumed, he didn’t dust, and he most certainly didn’t “deep clean” anything. His bed was never made, his coffee table was cluttered with paperwork and mail, and his end tables always had rings of liquid on them.

It didn’t bother him, it was what he was used to.

But Amy? Oh. It _bothered_ Amy.

A few weeks into their relationship, she broached the topic of cleaning with him. He’d known this was going to be a point of contention between them, after all, they were drastically different when it came to home maintenance. Amy was an obsessive cleaner: her car, her desk and her apartment were always immaculate. They usually went to her place after dates, as she preferred to be somewhere clean. But as they went out more and more and their relationship was developing, their “sleepovers” were more regular.

After Amy’s first night sleeping at Jake’s, she’d begged him to let her help him clean. As embarrassing as it was to admit, he would tell Amy yes to anything she wanted to do. So of course, he agreed.

Which is how they ended up in his apartment on their only adjoining day off. Amy had shown up ready to work, in a pair of yoga pants and a gray tank-top. She wore bright yellow rubber gloves, and in her arms carried a huge tub of cleaning products. Even with her hair pulled back in a braid and her face devoid of makeup, she looked unbearably beautiful. Jake also couldn’t help but notice how excited she looked.

“You seem eager.” He greeted her as he opened the front door to let her in.

“I am!” She admitted, glancing around the apartment, eyes focusing on key points, “We have so much to do!”

“Put me to work, Santiago.”

Amy looked him up and down, frowning at his jeans and flannel, “Jake, you need to change.”

He looked at her inquisitively, “What? These are my normal clothes.”

Amy rolled her eyes, “Jake that’s a nice shirt, and your range of motion in those pants is nonexistent.”

“Hey, they’re not _that_ tight-”

“You need to put on some shorts and an old shirt.” She insisted, “This is gonna get messy.”

Jake scoffed, hands on his hips, “C’mon Ames, it’s not gonna be that bad.”

She quirked an eyebrow up at him, giving him that challenging look he was used to seeing whenever she thought he was being an idiot. She reminded him of his strict librarian from high school, so it was hard to argue further.

“Alright.” he submitted, “I’ll change. But only if you watch.”

Amy flicked a pair of gloves at his face, “Go change before I leave you for Hitchcock. His house is clean.”

“Oh no _Hitchcock_?!” Jake laughed as he walked toward his bedroom, “He doesn’t even have a house!”

“ _That’s_ how messy your place is! The homeless guy is cleaner!”

Jake shook his head as he changed his clothes, yelling at her through his open bedroom door, “I love it when you get mean, Santiago!”

“Then you’re gonna have a really good day!” she snarked.

Once Jake emerged clad in his Knicks basketball shorts and a beat up old t-shirt, they were ready to begin. He suited up in the gloves she’d chucked at him and began following her orders. First up was his bedroom and bathroom.

Amy was in the zone. She threw her “cleaning playlist” on his speaker. It was a confusing mix of heavy metal and old school hip-hop, but it was the perfect score to how hard Amy Santiago went. She tore through cleaning tasks like a seasoned pro, answering every one of his probably simple questions like a genius. There were truly a lot of aspects to cleaning properly that he was not aware of.

Once his room was spotless and smelling like ocean breeze (thanks to the wax burner she’d brought) they moved to the bathroom. It needed less work, but Amy did show him how to thoroughly scrub and detail the shower.

“This will go faster if we split up.” Amy decided after they’d finished the bathroom, “I think you’re ready to go alone. You handle the kitchen, here.” she passed him an armful of supplies and quickly ran through detailed instructions of what to do and how to clean it.

“Just call me if you need me, okay? I’m gonna get to work on your closet.” she shuddered at the mention of his cluttered, over-crowded closet.

“Sir yes sir.” he nodded.

“Make sure you don’t sweep or mop until all the countertops are wiped down and the pantry is organized. Oh, and when you use that oven cleaner make sure you cover your nose and mouth, and don’t sit too close to it. It’s strong as hell.” She warned.

“Anything else?” he checked, a little mockingly.

Her tone was militant, “Make it look nice Peralta. I’m grading you.”

“Oh.” His eyes widened, and he smirked, “What if I’m a good boy and I get an A?”

Amy grinned salaciously, “Then you get a reward. Now get moving!”

“On it!” Jake made his way into the kitchen, dumping the products on the floor before picking out which ones he’d need first.

Amy even had him scrubbing the baseboards, something he’d never done before, which was obvious from the state of them. By the time he’d finished, his knees were beet red and indented from the floor. He sighed and moved on to the countertops. Apparently the correct way to do that was clearing everything off them and then spraying the surface cleaner to wipe them. He usually just hit them with a Lysol wipe after making a mess, but he had to admit, they looked much nicer after doing it properly.

He found himself getting into a nice groove as the music filled the apartment and he smiled at the sound of Amy’s off-key singing from the other room. He squatted down and pulled open the oven. He rarely used it, so he figured it was unnecessary, but he doused it with the oven cleaner because Amy had told him to. The strong smell hit his nose instantly, flecks of the spray flying into his face as he coughed and reared back. He’d forgotten Amy’s warning to cover his face before he sprayed it. _God_ , it was strong. It filled his nose and burned his nostrils and chest as he breathed it in.

Jake tried to catch his breath, but his lungs felt tight as he fought to steady his breathing. A sharp pain danced through his chest, and a familiar restriction of his lungs began to overwhelm him. He could do nothing but sit back on his legs as he coughed and hacked, attempting desperately to breathe. It took him half a moment to realize he was having an asthma attack.

Shit.

He grasped his chest, trying not to panic. Panicking only made it worse, he needed to stay calm and get to his inhaler. He couldn’t exactly call for Amy with the lack of air in his lungs, and there’s no way she’d hear him wheezing over the music. He just needed to force his wobbly legs into gear.

Whenever he tried to move though, the burn in his chest resisted and his lungs only got tighter and tighter. It felt as though every time he tried to fill his lungs, a chain clenched around them, halting his progress. He was able to inhale a little bit, but not enough to fulfill him, and the pain was almost unbearable. Pretty soon, he was going to be gasping.

Rational thinking had started to go out the window as he tried to stave off the fear, but was unable to calm himself down. He tried the breathing exercises he’d learned as a child, but they didn’t really help at all. Without his inhaler, he’d probably die. That thought didn’t exactly help.

“Hey Jake?”

Hope filled him as he heard Amy’s footsteps padding in from the bedroom. She walked in and stood just outside the kitchen, holding a magazine in her hands.

“I found this old _Playboy_ under your sneaker rack. I wanted to check before I tossed it because it’s the 95 one with Lisa Marie Scott, and I know you like that one.” she finally looked up from the magazine, where a ballet-doing Lisa Marie hung off the page. Amy looked around in confusion, “Jake?”

Amy leaned over the couch and clicked off the speaker, and in the following silence, Jake’s wheezing gasps were audible. The magazine hit the floor with a _thwack_ and Amy rounded the corner to find Jake on the floor, grasping at his chest, skin whiter than a sheet.

“Jake!” Amy gasped, falling to her knees beside him as her hands came up to brace around his shoulders, “babe? What’s going on?”

He gestured to his chest, gasping in pain as the burning failure of his lungs became unbearable, “ _In...haler_ …” he wheezed.

Recognition shone in her eyes and she nodded, “Okay babe! I got it! I’ll be right back! It’s gonna be okay!” Her voice was high-pitched, somewhat frantic.

Amy’s hands disappeared from his back and she sprinted out of the room into his bedroom. He hoped she remembered where he kept it tucked in his cluttered nightstand. Before they were dating, she’d also made him get another one to keep in his desk at work after he collapsed with an attack during a case and they had to use a chain-smoking perp's inhaler to get him breathing normally. It was pretty gross, and not a moment anyone wanted to relive, least of all Jake.

Amy was back in a moment, skidding to a stop beside him and dropping to the ground on her knees. She grabbed him by the arms and propped him up against her chest, reaching around to find his hands, which were clenched into fists. With shaking hands, she unclenched his tightly-wound fingers and pressed the inhaler into his clammy palm. Gripping his wrist, Amy brought Jake’s arm up to his mouth, and encouraged him to hit the inhaler.

He took his two puffs, the wheeze in his rattling chest louder than a gunshot in the otherwise silent kitchen. His head was swimming with dizziness, black spots dancing across his vision as he allowed the medicine to fill his lungs and help smooth out his gasping breaths. He could feel Amy’s breaths rising and falling underneath his head, which was slouched over on her chest. She was inhaling and exhaling steadily and loudly, one of her palms over his heart. Jake tried to follow her example, using her smooth breathing as a baseline.

After what felt like forever, Jake’s vision cleared and he could take a deep breath without it taking the effort of dragging a chariot. He was vaguely aware of Amy behind him, still taking exaggerated breaths, one hand on his chest and one gently carding through his hair. She smelled like Clorox, but her hands were gentle and the warmth of her body beneath his helped calm the tremors on his arms.

“Jake?” she asked quietly after noticing his breathing had soothed.

“I’m alright.” he replied, though his voice was scratchy and raspy.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t hear you out here.” her voice was so low it was nearly a whisper, “How _long_ were you...I mean...was that...were you close to-”

“I wasn’t gonna die babe.” Jake quickly cut her off, hating the shameful, guilty tone in her voice, “It’s not your fault. I breathed in that oven cleaner and you were right. It’s strong as hell.”

“It is.” she replied, still seeming unconvinced.

“Hey.” Jake sat up a little, turning to face her. His heart broke a little at the wobble of her lower lip and the downward pull of her eyebrows over her concerned eyes, “Ames. It’s okay.”

“That was so scary Jake.” she admitted, wiping at her eyes quickly, as if trying to hide tears from him, “I mean I’ve seen this happen once before but we were all right there to help you at the precinct. You weren’t on the ground for more than a minute. I...if I hadn’t come out here right now...” she grimaced visibly, “what would’ve happened?”

“I probably would’ve died and come back with some dope superpowers.” he assured her, trying to lighten the mood and take the pained expression off her beautiful face, “if my encyclopedic knowledge of comic books is medically accurate, at least.”

Amy eyed him cautiously for a moment, then said, “What would your power even be?”

“Sucking oxygen out of other people’s bodies, duh.” he rolled his eyes as if that were obvious, “They’d call me The Breathtaker.”

“They’d call you The Asthmatic Asshole.” Amy muttered, rubbing her forehead.

“You’re gonna dig at me right now?” he asked in a playfully hurt voice, “after I almost died?”

Amy winced, “Jake-”

“That was the wrong thing to say.” he cut her off, “Ames, please calm down. I promise I’m fine. You gotta take that guilty look off your face, cause it’s killing me a little.”

“I’m sorry Jake, but you didn't see what I just saw.” She replied shortly.

Jake chewed on his lower lip for a moment, meeting her eyes, “What...what did you see, Amy?”

“The most important person in my life, collapsed on his kitchen floor, gasping for air, face white as a sheet.” She shuddered, “Jake, that was terrifying. I’ve _never_ heard you make sounds like that. Or look like that. Even when you had the attack before at work, it wasn’t this bad. You...you…” her voice broke suddenly, and there were fat tears rolling down her cheeks, “Jake I thought you were about to die in my arms.”

“Amy.” Jake sat up fully and pulled her into his arms, wrapping them around her shoulders as she tried to stifle her cries.

“I’m sorry!” she said, sniffling, “This is insane. You shouldn’t be comforting me.”

“No, babe.” He shook his head, “I’m sure that was awful, and scary for you. Honestly it was scary for me too. They’re never fun, it’s just something I’ve learned to live with. I guess you’re not as used to it as I am, so it was probably really terrible. I’m sorry.”

She shook her head and pulled away, tears already wiped from her cheeks and she appeared to force them at bay, “I’m sorry for getting so worked up. That’s probably not what you want to see after you have an asthma attack.”

“Amy,” Jake reached out and took her hands in his, “You saved my ass. You got my inhaler and held me like I was a giant baby and breathed with me. You were incredible.” he shook his head, “I still can’t believe someone like you wants to be with someone like me.”

Amy’s frown deepened, “Why would you say that, Jake?”

Jake shrugged, “I dunno. My apartment is filthy, I can’t seem to use the oven cleaner without almost killing myself, and I still have a _Playboy_ from 1995. Thanks for not throwing that out, by the way. I’m keeping it forever.”

Amy laughed a little, and it was the best sound in the world. Jake couldn’t believe how lucky he was that this stunning, incredible woman was sitting on his kitchen floor, not only helping him clean his place but also saving his life. And somehow _she_ felt guilty. It was absurdity of the highest level.

“I like the Lisa Marie spread too.” Amy assured him, “That ballet outfit is kinda hot.”

“Hold on, I’m taking a mental picture of this moment so I can replay you saying that until I die.” Jake replied, brain short-circuiting at the fantasies Amy’s sentence shot through his mind.

Amy laughed again, pealing bells that settled over this shoulders and erased all the awful things that had just happened. Making her laugh was the most soothing balm he could get his hands on.

“I’m okay.” He promised her, giving her hands another squeeze, “Thanks to you.”

Amy nodded seriously, biting her lip for a moment before she replied, “Okay. Okay Jake. Just...keep this thing in your pocket or something.” She held up his inhaler.

“Okay babe.” he took it and stuffed it in his shorts pocket, which relaxed the tension in her shoulders a little.

“Should we get back to cleaning?” he asked, gesturing around the half-done kitchen.

“Nope.” Amy climbed to her feet and held her hands out for him to take, “We’re gonna get in the car, get some disgusting food from that sandwich place you like, and watch _Die Hard_.”

Jake’s eyes widened as he took her hands and allowed her to help him to his feet. His legs felt a little unsteady, but other than the lingering fatigue, he was fine. As long as he took it easy, he should be okay.

“We’re getting _Stanley’s Subs_ and watching the best movie ever made?” Jake shook his head in disbelief, “I should schedule a near-death experience every Saturday night.”

“Don’t push it.” Amy warned him sternly.

“Sir yes sir.” Jake nodded seriously, but his smile gave him away.

Amy turned to face him, leaning in until their lips were touching. She lifted her hands to caress his cheeks, her soft fingers stroking his skin as if reassuring herself he was still there and breathing. Her mouth molded to his gently, and she kissed him as though they had all the time in the world, as if the world were just the two of them, here in this kitchen forever.

Then, she pulled away and murmured, “You better not die on me Peralta, cause you’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

Jake blinked rapidly, still reeling from her incredible kiss, “I am?” he asked stupidly, “Even though I’m such a mess?”

“Jake.” Amy shook her head, “You could live in a dumpster for all I care. As long as you’re here, with me.”

“You’re just saying that cause I almost croaked.” he teased. She frowned a little, looking down, and he felt bad. He really needed to work on not being an ass every time she got real with him.

“Hey,” he gently placed his fingers under her chin and lifted her face so they were eye-to-eye, voice completely somber, “You are the most wonderful person in the world, and I could live ten lifetimes and still not deserve you.” He told her quietly, “But thanks for settling anyway.”

Amy smiled, “You’re welcome.” and winked playfully.

Jake scoffed, “How are you gonna wink at me after your Lisa Marie Scott comment? I’m dangerously close to being attracted to you, Santiago.”

She laughed as she pulled their bodies apart and grabbed her car keys off the counter, “Tell it to the meatball sub, Peralta.” and she began walking for the front door.

“Oh I will!” and he followed her out.

The apartment was still mostly a disaster, but neither of them cared about that. As they spent the rest of the day stuffing their faces with meatballs and watching John McClane kick ass, the only thing on their minds was being together.

Jake hoped this would never have to end.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is based off the time i accidentally inhaled oven cleaner while cleaning my kitchen and it gave me a horrible asthma attack. thank u for reading!


End file.
